


simmer

by Orca2



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orca2/pseuds/Orca2
Summary: Peril loses her fire





	

Rain, again. It seems like it's always raining. Peril rests her head upon her forearm, a puff of smoke escaping her lungs, swearing she hadn't the _slightest clue_ as to how many days have passed. The calmness of a silent night was all too unfamiliar. A bleak fog of gray that melded with stone walls. She supposes that it's something to get used to, as time continues to further the distance between the war and the present. She was almost resentful of it, if she was starkly honest with herself. 

A world without ruthless bloodshed would have no place for her. 

Peril shook the thought, scowling to herself. Her claws itched. She wanted nothing more than to leap into the sky, or maybe rip apart a few unfortunate rabbits to distract herself. In some welt in the back of her mind, she was debating whether it was wise to trade her monstrous qualities for a chance at worldliness.

Upon losing her firescales, Peril came to realize two things:

One, she felt incredibly useless without them, and Two, she still flinched away whenever she came into contact with another dragon.

Maybe she was idiotic to believe her habits would leave with her fire. She bitterly imagined burning that sentiment alive. 

Everything felt far colder than it should; including Turtle's soggy scales, which rose and fell at an almost deathly rate. She couldn't ever imagine being calm enough to breathe that slow. He was tucked lazily into the indent of her wing, snoring almost like a frog. Which Peril stared at thoughtfully, the experience completely foreign to her.

He was almost a little too comfortable with her, to the point of concern. Almost like a niave child who sticks their arm through the bars at the zoo because they " _want to pet the tiger_ ". Really, what in the world was she doing _anywhere_ near an impressionable dragonet. 

Peril gulped down her restless mania for the third time tonight, sighing reluctantly before curling up with the swampy colored SeaWing. His scales light up faintly and incoherent mumbles leave his mouth, but it's not much more than background noise as she takes a moment to wonder how lonely someone must be to settle for _her_.

 


End file.
